Ringwraiths: Thoughts Uncovered
by Rissa the Jedi
Summary: Frodo is stabbed on Weathertop. Told from the WitchKing's POV, though he seems to be... Partially human? Book cannon. Somewhat violent.


I always felt that the Ringwraiths should be put to justice. Well, not to justice, but I felt their thoughts should be heard. So I took a skirmish from The Fellowship of the Ring and told it from the Witch-King's perspective.

This is the scene where Frodo is stabbed in battle. Book cannon because movie cannons are icky.

Ringwraiths: Thoughts Uncovered

I can feel them in the distance. Five of them. Although I cannot see them; I sensed my prey. My curse has taken most of my sight away. The curse spawned from the pretty bit of jewelry I bear upon my hand. This ring I wear has taken my humanity, twisted and manipulated it until it has become something black, evil, and unknown to me. It has made me an unwilling slave, damned to forever serve the all-seeing eye; Lord Sauron. Now, my companions, The Nine Kings of Old; myself included, have become Ringwraiths, and I their leader, the mighty Witch-King. We are to retrieve the One Ring that was stolen from our master. That is our purpose. That is our quest. It calls to us. And one of the five huddled around the campfire I sense before us, carries it.

We approach them on foot, gliding silently up the hilltop. Cloaks of shadow mask our hideous faces, and we draw our steel blades from their scabbards, the metal making a clean slicing noise through the night. At this disturbance of the silence, they are alerted to our presence, as we close in on them from all sides, their dim firelight illuminating our intimidating forms.

I can now see them, although they are but hazy forms. Four of them are children's size, only one a grown man. All wield flaming sticks before them, as if that will frighten us off. I care not if they are man or child. My only concern is the ring.

Two of the children fall to the ground, weeping in terror. Another slowly backs out of view. I know not where the man is, nor do I care. The last child, he is moving slightly, a subtle shift of his weight. The campfire throws a ray of light onto his form, and I see the unmistakable glint of metal in his hands. I cannot see it clearly, but I feel its calling as clear as day.

I stare at his hands dazedly . Searching for so long, and now, so close to the prize. His hands jerk apart for a moment, a small convulsion, before, without warning, he puts it on.

His image is thrown into sharp relief as the Ring transports him to our reality. A confusing, chaotic reality, fog swirling about us, mocking our visions and spurring us into madness. He gasps audibly, for surely he can see us for what we truly are. Mutated monsters, living long after our expiration date, deformed experiments of fate.

I begin to walk slowly towards him, as if underwater; my movements slow, the weight of this moment falling upon me. My hand is stretched out, a silent request. He merely stares at me in blind horror, in his eyes is revulsion, in his posture utter fear. Two others flank me, swords at the ready, as is mine. I snap out of my inner musings, and approach him.

He shakily draws his own sword, seemingly amazed to find it blazing red. My fellow kinds draw back, but I continue. In an act of extraordinary bravery, or incredible madness, the child dives at my feet, stabbing me through my boot, yelling something entirely foreign to me. I scream in pain, and in my fury, I drive my own blade into his shoulder.

I do this for two reasons. The first and foremost is revenge, and anger. If he were to give me that Ring, such a tiny thing, perhaps my suffering can end. The second is far more complicated. A small, quiet, nagging part of me still remains human. I wanted him to take off that Ring, and to never wear it again. For him never to become like me. For him to run far, far away, to destroy it, to end all this insanity. But whenever I begin to feel my human emotions; Sauron's grasp on me grows stronger, and evil falls down upon me like a cold blanket. Sobering me of my sympathetic thoughts.

The child screams as I had, tearing the ring from his finger and disappearing from our world and back into his own; out of my view.

The man leaps from whereabouts I know not, two pieces of wood aflame in either hand. Shrieking commands to those of my outfit, we retreat. Though we could stay, should stay, I need to think a bit, mull over my previous actions. Wonder, as I do every night, what would have happened if we had never accepted Sauron's gifts of deceit.

We mount our steeds, and ride hard and fast into the dense wood, our intentions well known, to return on a later date for our prize. I can only hope that I can keep hold of this sliver of sanity for a bit longer, before my master senses it and puts a stop to it. One can only pray.

End of Piece

So what'd you guys think? Yes, no, maybe so? I'm quite curious, this piece is somewhat controversial to how they were portrayed and such... So, please, let me know! Plus, my beta reader kinda went to a movie... So tell me if there's any mistakes!

Love!


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